


Paper Doll (SFW version)

by Pickleboy



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Goat Bastard, Inanna sass, Injury Recovery, Let Muriel Say Fuck, M/M, Muriel doesnt like feelings, Pining, Sfw edit, eh more like adjacent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pickleboy/pseuds/Pickleboy
Summary: After Muriel finds a stranger badly injured in the middle of the woods and begrudgingly takes him in, he starts thinking things - new things that confuse and alarm him.
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I went and made a sfw version of my other work for all my minor friends and anyone else who wanted the fluff and smut minus the smut. Thanks so much for the support on the original fic!

It was mid-morning when he heard it; he had just stepped outside to chop up fresh firewood to get him through the night. A pitiful wail echoing off the morning dew and tree trunks. He looked up from his doorstep out into the forest. Time stood still for a second. Even the birds were silent. And he noticed. 

_ The birds are quiet. There's something wrong in these woods.  _

His hand instinctively moved to his axe, leaning against the front of his house. Was the disgraced Count out there that morning, crying out pathetically? The man wasn't usually spooked, but his jaw twitched when he heard it again, louder. It didn't sound like it had moved, which was generally a good sign when it came to moans in the woods. He slowly straightened his back, walking as quietly as his massive frame would allow down the path from his door into the woods proper. It was ahead, sharply left. A bundle of herbs and twigs shivered at his passing, brushing his shoulder.  _The wards and charms all seem to be powerful enough, like nothing magical was here. That must be a real animal._ He didn't much like the idea of killing an innocent being, but he didn't really love the idea of some poor creature out there suffering and maybe even eaten alive? Was it trapped? Axe in hand, he headed past his bush fence and into the forest. The wails came clearer, exhausted, hopeless moans. Not in words that he could tell, just calls into the sunlit air. A snuffling at his side, a dark shaggy wolf at his right.

"Inanna. Can you run up ahead for me?" A yip bubbled in her throat, coming out as an affirmative "hrf." The wolf took off up ahead, disappearing into the underbrush and out of sight.  _ Sounds close now.  _ The groaning was now sobs, like something too wounded to fight, something... afraid. Growls shook the woods, fading to whimpers and a whine as what sounded like multiple animals turned tail and ran. Inanna's bark up ahead lead the man out into a clearing just below a cliff. Inanna sniffled, skirting around a sinking muddy area, turning to him. She huffed, then pointed her head at something in the mud. Many pawprints dotted the mud.

_ Wolves. Threatening something, something like dinner. A very feisty dinner.  _

Looking up to address the cause of the noise, he found himself caught in two strikingly grey eyes. A final whimper slipped out of the... the something. It was some creature splayed out on the mud, covered in slick muddy fur. It held itself up by its arms, while its right leg jutted back into even muddier terrain. The ankle of the foot almost entirely buried in mud was bent at a very offputting angle. Something rippled under the fur. The wall of mud soaked fur made way for a small, slender hand, reaching from its fur cloak to the man. 

_It's... a person._ _Stuck in the mud. Fuck._ Right as the mud-person lost consciousness, the man grabbed them by the wrist, yanking them up into his arms. Uncomfortably close, even though they lay limp in his arm, head lolling. He started, flinching back for a second. Inanna nudged his leg, to which he spoke. 

"Should I help them, Inanna? I really don't want anyone at home. They'll be fine on their own..." The small person was now held in both arms, their head rolling back into his shoulder, breath hot on his neck. He started walking back to the hut, groaning.

"Of course I have to," he grunted down at the wolf. This was not a very appealing development.


	2. Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Apprentice, Brayden, finally meets his rescuer, and things get... complicated.

Brayden woke up curled up in a whorl of furs in front of a crackling fire.

_ So soft... So warm. _ His eyes stayed closed for a few seconds before he remembered that he didn't fall asleep there. A shock of pain rippled up his leg from the ankle. He jerked awake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright. His eyes shot around the cramped hut. No one was home, but the fire had plenty of life in it; it must have been lit recently. Hanging from the center of the mantle was a small pouch filled with spices and herbs, a protective charm. The fire heated it up, amplifying the smell of myrrh all around Brayden. Escape looked possible through the front door and window, which seemed a shame. This was how he would die, then. In a mysterious little hut in the middle of the forest, alone. That was about the time he realized he was out of his clothes and fastenings, instead draped in a giant tunic.  _ Gods, I must look like a pixie in this,  _ he thought, noting how dramatically the collar hung from his neck and shoulders.

The door swung open, Inanna bounding inside and startling at the very awake stranger in the hut. Behind his shaggy black hair, the man rolled his eyes. _Great. A person. In my hut,_ he thought bitterly. Brayden scrambled to his feet, grabbing his closest weapon - in this case, a dull butter knife from the nearby table - and thrusting it in front of him. 

"Who are you!?" he shrieked, voice squeaking out in reaction to the pain that pushed all breath from him. Flames licking from his ankle to his knee, needles and knives and all sorts of torture implements. His weight wavered over to his left leg as he shook, staring the stranger down. The man ducked under the door frame, straightening to nearly seven feet tall. His eyelids hung over his eyes as he looked down on the person threatening him. 

"You're the one in my house. You first." he grunted out, sweeping his cloak off and onto a hook in the wall by the door. That was a fair point.

"I... I'm Brayden," the cowering person stuttered, eyes locked to the ground, knife still absentmindedly held in front of him. The man grabbed the knife and returned it to the table.

"Don't touch that. Don't touch anything. And sit back down, your ankle's broken, for fuck's sake," It was like each word was being forced out of him. His eyes were also on the ground, under the table where Inanna was stalking around the stools. He sighed and resigned himself to social interaction. 

"You were out in the woods, stuck in the mud. You were about to get yourself eaten by wolves. But now you aren't." A long pause, then much softer "Once you can at least limp, you get out and go away." The man reached past Brayden, snatching the sachet of myrrh and draping the drawstring loosely around Brayden's neck. "Here," he grumbled, "so you don't forget. That'll make things much less annoying." With that he turned and walked away.

Brayden blinked. The way the silence hung thick in the air made it clear that was all the talking the man wanted to do for a while. So he sat himself right back down into the furs. He opened his mouth, he didn't know this man's name, but a dark flash of green from eyes across the room was enough warning he needed to close his mouth again. No questions were about to be answered. He would try anyways. Brayden hated the way the silence burrowed into his ears. 

"Thank you. For, uh, for rescuing me from the wolves. I don't remember much right before I passed out, but I'm pretty sure I was gonna be dinner." Brayden kept his eyes strictly on the fire, avoiding the annoyed stare of the hulking figure sitting on the bed, fiddling with some sticks and twine. He felt out with his magic, as the protective charm started taking shape. Ah. This would explain the little bundles around the deep forest. 

He pulled his magic back, shyly. There was no way this man could have even known he was reaching out, but it still felt prying. Like he has sauntered up, grabbed the ward from his giant fingers, and held it under a magnifying glass. Imposing. This wasn't Brayden's house to look around.

An irritated grunt from the bed served as a welcome. Brayden shakily began laying back down onto the furs.

"You've got Asra's tarot deck in your pocket. Why do you have it."

The low question came out more like a statement. This man knew Asra? He seemed familiar. The scent of myrrh reminded Brayden of a stranger, ducking away into the alley. He had seen this man before, he had... But where?

"I, um, I'm his apprentice. He gave it to me before he left, the other day."

Wood creaked as weight was shifted on the bed.

"Oh, right. That's you." Had they met? Brayden didn't think so, but his memories were all garbled up from three years ago and before. He had woken up to Asra's face. They'd lived together for years, even sharing a bed in the quaint apartment above their shop. Asra had never mentioned a man like this before. Every second seemed to swirl with new questions, and Brayden wasn't getting any answers.

"Muriel."

Brayden was pulled back to the present. "Huh?"

A pointed sigh. Another creak of the bed.

"My name. It's Muriel." The flame in the fireplace popped loudly, a spark floating up into the chimney flue. "I, um... I guess if you're a friend of Asra's, you're-" his voice grew strained "-not, um, terrible. But you're still leaving the second you can move yourself." 

Brayden slowly peered over his shoulder, careful to move as little as possible to observe Muriel out of the very edges of his peripheral. He was still huddled over on his bed, twine twisting between his fingers.

"Where are my clothes?" The question was asked nonchalantly, but that didn't stop Muriel from jerking his back straight up and flushing red in the cheeks. His ears burned with discomfort.

"They were all muddy. I washed them." Another pause. "...because I didn't want mud on my floors." Brayden nodded slowly to himself, before softly offering up his next question. "And why aren't I muddy?" He heard the resounding plink as the charm was dropped. Muriel sucked in a quick breath through his teeth and stooped lower in his seat. 

"I bathed you."

Pause. Brayden asked quietly and sadly, almost to himself, "You didn't..."

"No." Muriel's head nearly smacked into a root as he stood up suddenly, hands in fists at his side. "Only the scum of the earth would do anything like that." His voice was a low angry growl, but it didn't seem defensive at all, to Brayden's surprise. He smiled weakly, deciding to believe him. Muriel shifted his weight behind the small figure draped in his softest shirt, unsure of whether to sit down awkwardly or move somewhere else. 

His mind was made up for him when an ungodly growl roared in his belly. Brayden could hear Muriel grabbing plates, silverware, and cups from where he assumed the kitchen was. The next thing he knew, the giant man was kneeling next to him, gently setting a rack of ribs onto a grate above the fire. Was this man... feeding him? Sure, he hadn't been the most welcoming host, but judging by the state of the hut, the meat must have been a treat, a luxury. Muriel ducked out of the door with two cups, returning moments later with two steins of water sloshing in his hands. He sat one down by the shivering Brayden, vanishing from his side before the other could even look at him.

"It's from the well. Drink it."

Brayden lifted the cup to his lips gingerly and took a sip. Phew, fresh water. It was cold, and almost sweet on his tongue. Outside was a deep blue, not yet the dead of night, but definitely no more daylight. Inanna took a cautious step towards the guest, snuffling at his side. Brayden looked over at her. The wolf didn't stop her inspection as her owner sat back down on the bed, picking up the charm from the floor and returning to work. She sharply turned back to Muriel after a particularly close sniff, letting out a "borf" and sitting back on her haunches. 

"...I don't care, Inanna." 

Wait, could he understand her? Brayden knew about magicians being able to communicate with their familiars, though he'd never done it personally. Was this wolf a familiar? Muriel definitely didn't seem like the magician type. Across the room, he lifted his shaggy head to look at the figure huddled in his old tunic.

"You. Go back to sleep. I don't want you to do something stupid while the meat cooks." A calloused finger was pointed at Brayden from across the hut. He couldn't help but crack a smile, much as he fought it.

"Who says I'm going to do something stupid? Maybe I want to stay by the fire," Brayden giggled out. "Maybe I'm the tall, dark, and handsome type myself, just in a smaller model." His eyes glittered as he reached up and ruffled his shaggy blue hair, pulling it forward over his face. "Oh look at me, the mysterious mountain man! I eat what I kill, and speak to no one!" Brayden tried to set his face in the best comically exaggerated scowl as he could. Muriel's stare stayed firm, though he turned a bit pink in the ears. _Tall, dark, and... Handsome? Did he just call me handsome?_

Under that glare, Brayden crumbled again, dropping the act and sheepishly turning back to the fire. "...I'm sorry, I say dumb stuff when I get nervous." 

Muriel grunted out something unreadable, whether he was offended or annoyed wasn't clear. The two men sat in silence for what felt like ages as flames popped and crackled loudly under the rack of ribs.

Finally, Muriel stood and made his way through the thick air; the hut was filled with delicious hot steam. Taking a knee by the fireplace, he still towered over Brayden, who was sitting on his left foot to prop himself up more. _There's at least a foot and a half difference, for sure,_ Brayden thought, cautiously looking Muriel up and down. _This guy could slap my head clean off my body._

The giant reached into the fireplace with a bare hand, grabbing the now brown and sizzling rack off of the grate. He righted himself again and walked over to the kitchen table. 

"I can heal your hand, if you need," Brayden broke the silence shyly. "That had to have hurt. I could see that meat sizzling."

From behind him, "Nope. I'm fine."

Muriel shuffled back over, handing Brayden a plate of ribs. This time, Brayden noticed, he actually handed it to him directly, instead of placing it on the floor like he had with the water earlier. 

"Venison?" Brayden guessed, after lifting the still-hot food to his mouth and taking a greedy bite.

"Yeah."

"So I wasn't too far off earlier, huh? You eat what you kill?" 

Muriel let out something between a sigh, a scoff, and a groan, "It was injured when I got to it. It was too far gone to heal," he took a giant bite, speaking through chews, "I don't like hunting if I can avoid it." Brayden nodded, wheels turning slowly in his head.

He looked down at his broken ankle.

"So are you gonna eat me, then?"

Muriel's eyes shot open, and he visibly choked on his mouthful of food. He violently coughed into his elbow, snatching his water and finished with a long sip. Brayden had jerked towards him, hands out, about to rush to his aid, when he stopped coughing. 

"No," Brayden settled back down, "Don't be stupid." He stared daggers at his guest, a cue to look anywhere but at him as he flushed a dark red. His elbows found their way back to his knees, hunching back down. Brayden was looking away now, but Muriel could still see how the fire and the outside moonlight glowed on his skin. His thin neck, delicate collarbone, so small... He shook his head, trying to will away the instinctive urge to protect such a weak little creature. That wasn't his job. He was basically a stranger again, right? 

Brayden leaned forward to poke at the embers of the fast-dying fire on his hands and knees, a crude poker in his tiny right fist. Muriel continued to chew, taking a moment to himself. Inanna had been injured before, and he had tended to her. But a wounded human was a lot different. How long would he have to stay there-

"You look pale, are you okay?" Muriel's head shot up so fast a vertebrae in his neck cracked loudly. Brayden was up, leaning against the kitchen table, too close, too close , he thought. The apprentice swallowed visibly, looking Muriel dead in the eyes. "You looked like you were going to be sick... I could try and get you more water in case you do..."

Muriel desperately scanned his eyes and face. His wide eyes were fixed on Muriel's face, which had gone pink again. Placing his plate on his lap, he straightened tersely. 

"I'm fine. Go sit back down." His eyes returned to the ground somewhere around Brayden's feet. The flush in his cheeks helped a little, blood rushing back to his face. Instead of returning to the fire, which was visibly beyond saving, Brayden pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. The impact of his butt on the stool pushed a little noise from his closed mouth, something between a huff and a peep. Muriel's walls were still in place, keeping the apprentice out, but he had caught him for a second, unfocused, distracted. Face pale and sweaty, eyes on his food... Brayden had found a crack in the armor, a loose brick. He smiled to himself nonetheless, eyes still on Muriel's scarred face.

_Stop looking, stop fucking looking at me!_ The voice screamed in Muriel's head, frantic and desperate. But he held his tongue; he wasn't that defensive nor loud, that was his old boss. He cleared his throat, coming up with an alternative.

"If you can limp, you can leave, remember?" he mumbled, looking at Brayden's very injured ankle. 

I don't want you to leave _,_ he kept to himself,  not yet . I hate how much I enjoy seeing another person.

Muriel was alone, isolated deep in the woods from everyone else. The only person he ever saw was Asra, once every so often to help him keep away the bitter ghost of the former Count. One visitor at a time was enough. Maybe just enough. Brayden wasn't prying, he sat in place without complaint, and Inanna liked him enough, it seemed. It was refreshing. 

_And he's quite the sight for sore eyes,_ murmured his brain. _No, stop, shut up. He's just another person. And people are violent and evil and awful_ _,_ he retorted in his head. But he couldn't deny that despite some unnecessary comments and questions, the apprentice, now swinging his feet on the stool at the table, had been... alright. He took a deep breath, "And I don't exactly like finding the bodies of wolf food anywhere near my house."

Brayden blinked slowly. He had so much to say, so much to ask, but he respected his host and bit his tongue.

"Okay. Thanks," was all he allowed out. Muriel hummed a low note in return, a noise that seemed like as close to "you're welcome" as Brayden would ever get out of him. Brayden suspected he was privileged to coax that much out of him, as Asra's magic wavered around his broad huddled body. Benefits of knowing that mysterious magician, he supposed. 

Muriel was playing with his remaining food, too embarrassed to keep anything down. The situation no longer had a clear next step, what he should do or say. 

After another ten or so minutes of tense silence, he handed his mostly empty plate to Brayden.

"Put them in that bucket. You can get over to it easily enough." A small hand snatched the plate out of his own enormous fingers, stacking the plates and tossing them into the pail of cold water next to the table. They looked like they were going to land about a foot short, but suddenly the steel slowed down, drifting over to the basin and landing as if they were floating through a current. He furrowed his brow, but when he looked back to Brayden, it made sense.

"You seriously use your magic for stuff like that?" Muriel asked, condescendingly. Brayden became pink at the ears, lowering his pointer finger from where he stealthily had it pointed on the table under the elbow he had been leaning on.

"Um... Yeah, yeah sometimes," he answered sheepishly, looking back down at his swinging feet, both easily half a foot off the dirt floor. Muriel huffed and rolled his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple. 

"Fire's dead. That means it's time to sleep," he mumbled, head hanging. Inanna rose from her place by the fireplace, leaping up behind her master on the bed. Before Brayden could even think, Muriel jabbed his thumb to the pile of furs.

"You sleep over there. Don't try anything funny while I sleep or I'll crack you in half like a twig," he mumbled, tiredness lowering his words to a grumble. Instead of the horror he expected to be painted on Brayden's face, he looked up into a smug chuckle.

"I'd like to see you try. If you were gonna, you would have when I was out cold."

With a scoff Muriel laid down, listening to Brayden hobble back over to his spot on the floor. After listening to Brayden lay down in the furs and start to snore ever so softly, the man sat up. It suddenly felt too full in the hut, too claustrophobic. 

His collar and chain made a slow clinking as he brought himself to his elbows, turning his body to look at Brayden. The apprentice was still snoring quietly, curled up with their body wrapped around a bunched up pelt in their arms. He sighed. Despite the gnawing feeling someone else sleeping in the same hut as him drew from his stomach, the apprentice hadn't been... too bad. Awkwardly, he collected the chain link into one giant hand and slowly turned outward. He swung his feet down onto the floor, standing up with the chain thankfully silent in his palm and quietly stalked out the door.

Once he was out in the breezy night air, he let go of a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. His hand uncurled, letting the chain come loose and drop down against his broad, scarred chest. The chopping block groaned as he set his body down onto it, but stayed in place. His head dropped into his palms, and he groaned weakly. Meeting Brayden again hadn't gone terribly, but keeping him around meant he would have to explain his scars. His heavy iron collar that kept him from the rest of Vesuvia. He had to let Brayden remember, whether he liked it or not, if he was going to be staying. And if he was going to be staying, Muriel had to make sure not to accidentally hurt him. Hurting people sometimes felt like all he was good for. He'd grown into considerable bulk and strength and... power. Count Lucio had pulled that power out of him in the ring. The Scourge of the South, they had called him. Palace executioner. Undefeated. The town whooped and cheered for him... though he wanted nothing more than to leave and never see another person again. He would never use these bloodstained hands for injuring another human again. Never. Anyone close to Asra especially. He hadn't let it slip, but Asra talked about Brayden often. He'd noticed  who they were after a proper wash up, Asra's cards in his pants pocket. So this was him, then, huh. Something new to tend to. 

He stood up, lifting his head from his sweating hands. A drink. He'd gotten his air, now he just needed some cold water. 

"Oh! There you are!"

Muriel spun around violently, fear overtaking any hostility he had in him. Brayden was hopping, barefoot from the doorway to the well, leaning on the side of the house for support. Muriel quickly brought a scowl to his face, replacing his wide eyes.

"What are you doing out here? I told you to stay put unless you want to be thrown out." The words came out just a touch too threateningly, but Brayden still didn't look too afraid. 

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry," the apprentice whispered, shrinking back into himself a bit, "I woke up a bit thirsty, and you weren't in your bed when I tried to ask..." A thin arm lifted a heavy stein, waving it up for proof. He was still cowering, but his eyes lit up a bit. "But I suppose you beat me there, didn't you?" 

"It's over behind the house." Muriel's frame blocked out a massive pitch-black shadow from the otherwise moonlit clearing around the magician. His jaw tensed. Small talk, his worst enemy. A look at the apprentice's wide, adoring eyes just made the flutter in his heart worse. With a strained jerk of the head Brayden was sent around back, hopping away under Muriel's gaze- one so intense he could feel those green eyes on him without even looking back. 

But in Muriel's head the pains and anxieties were just getting worse as he watched him leave. Why'd he have to go and take him in, someone so... sweet? Kind? Someone his life felt better with for the first time? 

_It's stupid. Bullshit. It'd been a day._

Well, a day with... the body that didn't remember anything. The body the ritual had granted, the brain that couldn't remember their past. The version of Brayden that hadn't seen him doing horrible things yes, but the version that seemed... unnatural. He'd never cared for Asra's idea in the first place, now it just felt off. He turned to go back inside, frustration balling his fist. 

Once he'd reached the well Brayden finally looked behind himself, his loaner shirt fluttering around his knees in another summer night breeze. The door slammed shut suddenly and loudly, making him jump. _Wonder what his issue is,_ he thought, _I can't pin him down at all. A whole night and I don't know a damn thing about him_. Hobbling away from the well and trailing against the stone of the hut, Brayden was startled again by a frustrated yell from inside, a yell he suspected he wasn't meant to hear. As he passed by the front window he looked in to see Muriel once again hunched over on his bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees. _Why's he so frustrated?_ Brayden wondered, feeling a pang of guilt. _Did I do something wrong? Did I offend him?_

Upon Brayden's return to the dark hut, Muriel stood bolt upright, glaring down at him. His eyes flashed green again, reflecting the small orb of light in Brayden's other hand that he had summoned. 

"Get back to bed," came a low order from far above his head. Brayden nodded sadly, hopping across the floor to the furs. Muriel followed him with his eyes, and watched as he came down onto his good ankle funny. The light sputtered out, and Brayden screamed as he collapsed to his knees and elbows. Without thinking, Muriel rushed over in two long strides, kneeling down by him.

"Are you alright?" he asked gruffly, fixing his eyes on Brayden's. Brayden nodded.

"I think I just twisted it. It should be fine by tomorrow. This other one," he gestured to the ugly swollen mess that was his other foot, "is definitely out of commission for a while. Broken, I think."

A while? What was a while? How long did Muriel have to care for this pathetic little fawn of a man? He fixed a scowl back onto his face, and called behind him. 

"Inanna. Go into town and find a doctor tomorrow," an unreadable look washed over his face, "I'm not dealing with... this, any longer than I have to." Brayden deflated a bit, crawling on all fours back to his spot. The way he crawled sadly, the tiny sniffle he let out, the tears quietly falling from those big grey eyes... It was too much for Muriel to take. Sighing to himself, he placed a hand on the man's shoulder to stop him. 

"No, no... You sleep in my bed tonight. I'll take the floor." Brayden looked over at Muriel, who snapped his gaze back to the floor. "Both your feet are useless. Sleeping on the floor is only gonna make things worse." 

Brayden nodded slowly as he thought, but then refused.

"No," he said softly, "we should share the bed." Muriel's heart skipped a beat as the apprentice continued, "Sleeping on the floor is bad for your back, and you already hunch forward. You're going to be in a lot of pain." Their eyes met again, and the larger man's face burned hot. Brayden eased the tension with a warm smile. "You aren't scared of me, are you? I don't bite."

"N-no, and stop talking before I-" But it was already too late. The apprentice had both arms latched around his neck, pulling Muriel close as he shifted his weight onto his shoulders. _Too close, tooooo close_ , screeched his mind as Brayden's smiling face loomed just inches away. "...kick... you out..." he stuttered out, weakly. Sweet breath filled his nostrils, hands delicately clasped together against the back of his neck. Brayden's full weight was on his shoulders now, but in his hazy consciousness it was like nothing at all. His clumsy fingers fumbled around awkwardly, it was just so quiet... Too quiet even for his tastes. He had to do something, surely, but what? 

Brayden lifted himself up higher, dangling from Muriel's shoulder like a monkey from a branch. The movement pushed his head into Muriel's shoulder, and their chests met. Muriel's heart beat angrily in his chest, hard enough for Brayden to feel. His neck was pink with blush, scorching against Brayden's cheek. He brought his lips to Muriel's ear, ripping a hearty shiver from the man's chest, shaking his whole body.

"Please. I can't bear to see you all curled up on the floor," he whispered into his ear. The words weren't drawled out, weren't flirty, but that didn't matter to Muriel. His chest twinged again, the intimacy getting to him too easily.

"Fine." It was low, in his chest, but Muriel spoke all the same. He swept an arm under Brayden's scraped knees, hoisting the apprentice into his arms. As he stood up, he made extra care to where the magician's body touched his- as minimally as possible. By the time he laid Brayden on the very edge of his bed against Inanna, he was snoring softly again, eyes closed tightly.  _So peaceful_ , Muriel thought.  _Finally not in pain anymore_.  Before he could stop himself, he ran his fingers softly through the shaggy blue hair that peeked out from under his blanket.  _What am I doing,_ his brain wondered. He sat down on the bed, resigning himself to another sleepless night.


End file.
